


Now A Family

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, No Wiggly AU, Romantic Fluff, background paulkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: He had not seen Becky in years, yet as she stood there before his eyes, he could not remember ever having been apart. He blinked the memories away but it didn't take a rosy past to notice how lovely the present, too.No Wiggly AU where Tom and Becky rekindle their relationship the best they can and mend each other's broken hearts.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 29
Kudos: 27





	Now A Family

Tom won the game without meaning to.

It had just been a fun afternoon of tossing the ball back and forth in the yard, a rare carefree moment between father and son, but only one mistake of distraction spoiled it all. A plane passed in the sky and drew Tim's attention away from the game. Before Tom knew it, his son was whining in pain, blood gushing from his temple and play time was over. For a few seconds, fear and haunting memories paralyzed him where he was, but he ran at Tim's side to cradle him in his arms and carry him to the hospital. If he ran a few red lights on his way there, then the lessons of the past would just have to be learned another time.

"Just hang on, buddy, alright? We'll get you stitched up in no time here."

Tim sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. The small bundle of paper towels he was holding up against the wound was soaked through, but he had stopped crying.

"Okay, dad," he said quietly and closed his eyes.

He was admirably calm waiting in the ER, sitting obediently on an uncomfortable plastic bench while Tom filled out more forms than he thought were needed. Patient after patient were prioritized over his bleeding son. He wanted to shout for attention, for someone to please help Tim, but the staff looked overworked and cranky with exhaustion, so he sat down, pulled Tim into his side and waited anxiously.

"You okay there?" He asked.

Tim nodded and snuggled closer into the side embrace. Some drying blood made a mark against Tom's plaid shirt but he paid it no mind.

"Kinda," Tim replied. "It hurts a bit."

Tom patted his shoulder gently. The logical part of him knew that accidents like this happened all the time, that he couldn't have foreseen it and that Tim would be fine. The stress of it all, though, was enough to tug right at the most painful parts of his memories. Harming his family one at a time, how easily he could inflict pain without even meaning to... He swallowed thickly and held his son close.

"Houston, Timothy?"

He sprang to his feet but could just as well have sunk back down at the sight.

"Becky Barnes..."

He had not seen her in years, yet as she stood there before his eyes, he could not remember ever having been apart. He blinked the memories away but it didn't take a rosy past to notice how lovely the present, too. The agitation of what he was certain must have been a long and tiring shift had left her the littlest bit disheveled but, if anything, the tousled hair and sluggishness endeared her to his heart. The same cute little nose, the same kindness and intelligence in her eyes. The same ability to make his heart skip a beat. How long ago the day she had broken it into pieces, the day they decided to cut things off? But his heart had endured much more, much worse since then. The pain of a long passed separation seemed so inconsequential now.

"Erm, dad?"

He shook himself out of it. Becky gave him a curious smile, pointing the way for Tim to follow her and Tom cursed himself for the fleeting moment of misplaced daydreaming.

"I'm sorry for the wait," she told them as she let them into a room and pointed Tim to a table Tom perched him up onto. "Weekends tend to get a bit crazy... It's been like this all day."

"It's alright," he hurried to say, his voice scratchier than he'd hoped. He cleared his throat. "It's nothing. Totally fine."

She was smiling politely but, he noticed, averting her gaze from his. He wondered if he alone was feeling the thrill of long gone memories resurge to the surface or if she could sense it as well. She gathered a few supplies on the table next to Tim, ever meticulous and applied to everything she did. Her ponytail had been neat and tight at the beginning of the day, he was sure, but a few rogue strands were in her eyes. She brushed them back to take a closer look at the wound.

"The good news," she said kindly, looking at Tim with fondness, "is that the longer you wait, the better off you are. If you were in any danger, we'd have rushed you in as fast as possible. You'll be just fine, sir."

Tom sighed out in relief and punched Tim's arm playfully.

"You're a real warrior, bud, nothing can get you!"

"Not even you," Tim retorted jokingly but Tom was silenced all the same.

Becky hid her snicker, though not very well. Delicately, she disinfected Tim's temple and, true to his new established warrior status, he didn't even wince once. Stitching things up was another harsher business and he held Tom's hand very tight, but it was achieved and before long Becky gestured for him to hop off the table.

"Tell you what," she said, crouching to his level, taking his hands in hers. "You've been so brave, you get _two_ treats. That's just what heroes deserve, right?"

Tom thought that if Jane had been there, she would have had had something to say about gorging their son with candy. Jane wasn't there and for that reason, because Tim deserved whichever sweetness was thrown his way these days, Tom let him trot away to the other side of the hall and the big glass bowl filled with candy Becky pointed him to. Only when the door slammed behind him did Tom realize he ought to have followed him out of the room but his eyes caught with Becky's and suddenly neither of them seemed in any hurry to go anywhere. They took a step towards one another, rediscovering each other all over again. She looked as beautiful as she always had, unchanged after all this time.

"So, that's your kid, huh?"

He grinned. Glancing at Tim through the glass window, he found him negotiating the assistant for a third piece of candy. Always the smart one. That, he had from Jane.

"That's my kid."

She leaned against the desk, folding her hands neatly on her lap. Cute. He thought he had forgotten the feel of her hands in his, but staring at her from a few steps away, he suddenly remembered it perfectly.

"What happened to him?"

Tom's heart sank with mourning. What _had_ happened to Tim? But Becky mumbled to correct herself.

"I mean, to make him bleed? Sorry, so sorry, it's not really policy to ask unless it's strictly needed…"

He didn't know if she had always been the type to fret and apologize so. He smiled, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, erm, we were throwing a football in the yard and…"

She laughed.

"He's not…" He looked behind him to make sure Tim wasn't in ear range. "He's not really a sports kinda guy, I think. But all his friends are doing it, so…"

He sat next to her on the edge of the table and only realized too late how close that was. He scooted away a little bit. If Becky noticed or minded, she wouldn't show it. She smiled.

"I can't believe that for one second," she said. " _Your_ son, not a great athlete?"

He could only smile dumbly, his mind swarming with memories of the good old days. All those Friday nights...

"He has other skills," he said kindly.

"Legend skips generations," she replied. "You were the best, back in the days. Remember?"

As if he could ever have forgotten. She nudged his side gently. The spot she had touched remained tingly even after the contact was broken.

"Give it up for Tom Houston, Tommy the hunk, best player in the world," she sing-sang, her smile turning teasing and if Tom wasn't careful, he could hear again the whole cheer routine she had used to lead.

He might have stayed there for her to recite it all if Tim hadn't tugged on his arm from behind.

"The lady said I could take one for you too," he said. "I picked raspberry."

He was holding up a lollipop. Tom looked at it in wonder as he slowly stood and followed Tim to the door. Turning to Becky one last time, he thought he ought to say something. She was looking at him anyways, the same smile as ever, the same lines around her blue, blue eyes. She held the door open for them.

"Thanks," Tom said. "For the… I mean, stitching up the boy and…"

Her smile was distracting, entrancing. He wondered how he had gotten all these years without seeing it, without seeing her. Now that he was back in her presence, he could hardly think anything of the time without her.

"I'll see you around, Tom," she replied softly.

Tom could feel Tim's insistent stare on him as they walked back to the car.

"Who was that, dad?"

They sat, Tom checking that Tim was putting on the seatbelt properly, patting his shoulder in comfort. He had been so brave.

"Someone I used to know."

How could he begin to use words to describe who Becky Barnes had been to him? How could he still think himself a decent father if he did it to his grieving kid?

"You don't anymore?"

"I don't know, Tim," he said and started the ignition. "I don't know."

He shoved the lollipop in his mouth to avoid any further conversation and it filled him with too much sweetness.

He thought of her that night and sprinkled his pasta with sugar that he ate anyway to hide the mistake from Tim. He thought of her at night in the empty, lonely bed, thought of Jane too and groaned into his pillow, hating himself. He thought of her when he drove Tim to football practice the next day and saw him show off the stitches to all of his friends. He thought of her often, fondly, more than he had in the whole decade of Jane. Having seen her again, he wanted to see her again and again and again. He hated himself none the lesser for it.

Tom had not always used to dwell on emotions, for many years had been more a man of action and practicality than rosy sentimentality. Jane joked that he was her Mr Fix It Man, who couldn't stand to not find a direct solution to any problem presented to him, regardless of how inconvenient the search was. But since she had passed, he had fallen back into ancient habits of listening to his heart first − a grieving, heavy heart that wanted nothing more than to weigh him with sadness and despair forever. Seeing Becky had reminded him of that time forever ago when love and passion had been his chief occupations and motivations, when loving her had been the only thing that mattered, the cure to everything. He thought he had forgotten that forever.

He thought of her the next day and the next and the next, his heart aching with sweet longing. The cure still existed, he told himself with guilt and dread. That was one woe he could still hope to soothe, a simple solution to fix it. By the time he reached the hospital, he was having regrets and almost turned the whole way around back home.

"Thomas Houston, you're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

His dumb face in the rear view mirror had no clever retort to that.

Being in a crowd had never been pleasant to him and he tried as he might to navigate the sea of sick and diseased people. The receptionist was filing her nails when he reached the counter and gave him a bored look.

"Mmh?"

Tom's fingers gripped the plastic surface of the counter like his life depended on it and he frowned at his own nerve.

"I'm looking for Becky Barnes?" He asked. "She's a nurse, she works here and…"

The lady cut him.

"If you know her, you'll know where to find her, sir."

He realized that she must be thinking him some sort of predator, or at the very least ill-intentioned. Fuck. This was exactly what he had feared might happen, though he had not thought he would last less than a minute without it coming up.

"Look, she's an old, erm, friend of mine and I wanted to…"

"Tom?"

His shoulders that had been squared up tensely sagged with relief and he swirled to find Becky Barnes' sky blue eyes looking at him curiously. He clenched his fists, walked the few steps between them.

"What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

She smiled. Her hand made to touch his arm but she must have changed her mind halfway through, for it remained there in the air and then fell back to clutch her bag.

"I, er, I'm sorry. It's probably real creepy of me to find you at work but I didn't know how to… I'm sorry."

Her head tilted slightly to the side, observing him silently. Same smile. His heart was in a frenzy.

"If you want me to leave, just tell me, I will."

But the hand decided to make contact after all and Becky's hand at the crook of his elbow soothed him.

"I don't want you to leave," she said softly. She sighed. "But my shift starts in ten minutes. Tom, I've been…"

She shook her head without finishing her thought and nodded at him to go on.

"I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to chat. Over coffee or something. Whatever you like."

He remembered morning takeouts before classes, her order that always contained half of the sugar in Michigan, probably, all burned out at practice as she cheered him like he was the athlete of the century. Whipped cream moustaches, how sweet her kisses. He looked at her, trying to hide how vast his eagerness.

"Coffee sounds great," she said with a grin and he didn't think his heart could still beat as strong, as determined, yet here it was. "Listen, I'm so sorry, I'm really in a rush but…" She offered him her phone for him to type in his number. "I'll text you."

She did text him, and much sooner than he could have imagined. His back was barely hitting the seat of his car again that his phone was buzzing with a couple of messages.

_really sorry I couldn't talk! work :)_

_I would love to have coffee with you Tom_

They met up at the park that weekend. Grace couldn't make it and so Tim was taken along under the guise of making him take in some fresh air for once. Tom made sure to arrive early and, before Becky even arrived, tried to be as gentle as he could in his sent-off.

"Hey, erm, buddy, how about you go play or something, right?"

Tim nodded, although it was definitely more 'something' than actual play. Pulling his Switch out of his pocket, he sat on a bench further down the lane and, keeping an eye on him, Tom sat on another and waited. He wondered if he ought to have brought something for Becky, flowers or chocolate or something. She had liked peonies. He didn't know what she liked anymore. He had brought nothing but his hopes and confused emotions.

"Waiting for someone?"

The hand at his shoulder from behind made him visibly startle and Becky stifled a giggle as she sat next to him.

"Becky..."

They smiled at each other. Tom would have expected himself to be more anxious just seconds ago but the sight of her suddenly sent him to a place of quiet he had forgotten. He was relieved to see her again. The next hour went in a blur of small talk. By the end of it, he could hardly remember a word that had come out of his mouth at all, a very mismatched conversation on either side, but her smiles were more than enough memories to keep forever.

"I'm going this way," she pointed. "So..."

He nodded. His car was parked the other way, of course, but offering to walk her back would mean bringing Tim with him and having to answer another load of questions. He had never been much for confrontation, not even with the flesh of his flesh. Perhaps especially not with him. Becky gave him a smile and touched his arm.

"It was good to catch up, Tom. I've missed you."

He had thought he was over being flustered at every pretty thing Becky told him. His hand covered hers, so small and warm under his fingers.

"I wanna see you again," she said. "Can we... Can we see each other?"

Another date was arranged for later that week and Tom looked at Becky walk away. There was a slight skip to her stride that matched the excited beat of his heart and he waited until she passed the corner to get Tim. A date. It was a date.

"Was that the lady from the ER?" Tim asked.

How Becky Barnes could be summarized in a turn of a sentence, Tom did not know.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yes, that's Becky Barnes."

He could see plastered over Tim's face the questions he did not dare to ask.

"She and I used to be, erm. We used to be very good friends. Back in high school."

"A million years ago," Tim nodded.

Tom snorted and pushed his shoulder playfully, which made Tim laugh. He patted the mess of his hair more gently.

"Sometimes, it feels like that to me too, bud."

Grace wasn't back yet, so he dropped off Tim at Emma's before the date. Two birds, one stone, he told himself. Emma had been attempting to make contact with her nephew a few times since Jane had passed. Tom knew it couldn't have been for the sake of his own company. There had never been much warmth between the two of them, though she hid it well for Tim's sake when she welcomed him in that day. Her place smelled overly clean, like she had just spent a whole day sanitizing it for the purpose of making a good impression and perhaps for fear of intoxicating the poor boy with the rancid mess he was certain would usually be littering her apartment. Still, it was a way to keep Tim safe and busy for the night and if it could make aunt and kid happy at the same time, it was all for the best.

"Thanks, Emma!" He told her.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, already closing the door to his face. "See you."

They took a walk in the park. Though he had not felt especially stifled by Tim's nearby presence, Tom realized how much freer he was feeling when it was just the two of them. He bought them ice cream cones and they made leisurely conversation as they strolled around the small lake. Becky was in such a pleasant mood he was very sorry for the confession he knew he had to make.

"Becky, erm..."

"Mmh?"

He knew she was teasing him with the way she slowly ate the ice cream but he felt it might be too early to launch such accusations, naughty as they were. He breathed in deeply. All week since they had seen each other he had thought of how to approach it. He owed her honesty, he knew. She deserved the choice to make an informed decision on poor broken Tom Houston.

"This is... ugh. This sounds all weird now that I think it through."

She switched the cone to her other hand to stroke his arm in reassurance.

"What is it, Tom?"

He sighed in frustration. It was ridiculous. It was too forward, too pushy. He had no right to burden her with it. Yet to take one step further without saying a thing...

"I want you to know, before we... erm, before this goes any further. If it does, I mean..." She gave him a smile, a promise that this would, in fact, go quite a bit further if it was up to her. "I'm not the same guy you knew. In high school, when we..."

"When we dated."

He nodded. It was the first open acknowledgement of the relationship that had once meant everything in the world. Maybe it still did. Maybe the world had become much broader and lonelier, but Tom was thinking anything but lonely now.

"I went to war twice," he said. "I lost Jane. I'm different now. I'm... not as much as I was. Something broke inside and I could never fix it and..." He sighed. That was too much. She had not asked for a melodrama, just a few hours together. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to think you're getting the same Tom Houston. I didn't wanna lead you on. If you no longer wanna..."

She stopped him, just a soft pull of her hand on his arm to keep him at her side. She looked up at him, wide blue eyes staring, trying to decipher in his something he wasn't certain he knew himself. Her hand slid up his arm, up to his chest where it rested against his heart. He took it in his.

"You're not getting the same Becky either, Tom. Not even a little bit."

She was no longer smiling and he dared not to imagine the emotions filling up her gaze now. He held her face, his thumb stroke across her cheek.

"What is it?"

But she shook her head and dropped her hand.

"It's nothing." She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the strange mystery of them was buried. "Let's... Let's just take a walk."

She leaned her head against him and he felt her fingers pry his hand open as they started walking again, entwining them with his. He feared he had ruined the mood for them but she talked again after a while. She carefully skirted around their talk the rest of the date, but the vivacity soon came back, the good cheer she had showed earlier. She joked around and surely enough, the joyful banter was back before long and Tom forgot about ever feeling awkward.

He had promised Tim they'd grab takeouts and watch a movie together that night, so by the end of the afternoon he had to walk her home. A small home tucked between two that looked just the same, a hundred more around. She pointed at the door with a smile that held a bit of sadness.

"Thanks for getting me home," she said. "And for the date. I… I had a great time."

"Yeah," he sighed in relief and grinned. He rubbed the back of his head. "Me too. Thanks for, erm, for coming."

She huffed out a quiet laughter. Her eyes were sparkling with something wicked and she bit her lip. Tom might have been a dumbass and had lost the habit of dating − or never had it in the first place − but everything he had known about Becky Barnes came back full force the more time he spent around her. Slightly hesitant at first, he leaned and knew from the look of her that his move was not just appreciated but encouraged.

They kissed. He had meant it nothing more than a reassurance that the date had gone alright, but Becky's arms clutched the front of his shirt and pulled him to her and he could only hold her face close and calm his heart in the kiss of hers − or was he exciting it even more? He had missed having someone in his arms, pressed up against him, he had missed the feel of lips against his, of unrestrained affection. He had missed all that, and Becky Barnes. She had her back to the door − he never remembered pushing her there, but she had a fire to her, begging for more of his already generously given attentions. A hand caught in his hair. Her fingers combed through tightly and Tom groaned. He felt her smile into the kiss before she broke it. Her fingers scratched his scalp gently.

"Hey," he whispered.

He felt goofy, starstruck. His heart was racing erratically but he was at the same time more comfortable than ever. He caressed a thumb across her cheek lazily. How soft her smile, her gaze.

"Goodnight, Tom."

She slipped away leaving Tom dumb with pleasure, staring at the closed door for a few seconds before he caught himself. He shook his head and went back to the car to go pick up his boy.

Tim was ecstatic from having spent time with Emma. He told him all about the games they had played, the videos they had watched, how she had beaten him hard at whatever video game it was that she had given him, how she had promised to teach him to pick a lock but he wasn't supposed to say. Tom listened to him ramble on and on, singing the good qualities of aunt Emma Tom had never especially noticed for himself. He was happy for the boy, though, and gladly made conversation with him throughout the night about it. So enthused he was about his newly rekindled relationship with his aunt, Tim never asked any question about the date.

Becky and him texted ever more. Tom had never in his life, even in his teens, been the type to be glued to his phone but every time it buzzed with Becky Barnes, he could not resist even a second before opening and keeping the flow going. Of course, their time together was limited, both a full schedule of work and then some. Of course, there was Tim to drive places and take care of and spend time with and parent. They spent a few lunch breaks together, too short a time for all the driving and anticipation. They met up for coffee after Tim was dropped to school but just before her shift − her order had tamed down from the sugary hell of her youth. Glimpses of Becky here and there, enough to fill his heart with sweetness.

Tom asked himself many times if he was lying to his son by neglecting to mention the budding hope of a relationship born again between him and Becky. They had not had another date per se, hardly more than half an hour at a time, but they had chatted and bantered and yes, kissed and Tom felt in him emotions he had never imagined he would be able to live again. He asked Emma if Tim could sleep over. He should have known better than to think her agreeing on the phone would be the end of it.

"It's the door at the end of the hall, sweetie, make yourself at home, alright?"

Tim nodded, trotting away to the bedroom with his overnight bag strapped across his shoulder. Tom waved him away and was about to leave, but Emma barred his way out with an outstretched arm.

"So, are you gonna tell me why you haven't talked to me in like eight months but now you shove your kid in my arms twice in a couple weeks?"

Tom sighed. He checked the short hallway but thankfully, Tim had closed the door behind him.

"You're not gonna like it," he said. "You might not want to look after him if I tell you."

She snorted. Leaning against her door, she was giving him the same mean glance he had always known from her.

"Of course I wanna watch him, he's a fun little weirdo. I'm not a dumbass, though."

Tom hesitated. He was supposed to be picking up Becky and would have rather not been getting delayed, but he was certain the cerberus watching over the doorway would take more than a white lie to let him out. He had been so glad for his little secret, the bubble of unexpected joy suddenly blown into his life.

"I have a date," he admitted.

Emma stared. He thought she must have expected it, yet the words seemed to punch her in the guts and she took some time to get her tongue back.

"Okay," she said.

She paced a few steps.

"Okay," she repeated. "Okay. Okay."

She walked up to him, then right away and clutched the edge of the table to catch herself.

" _Okay_."

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't wanna tell you like…" He shook his head. "I didn't wanna tell you.

Emma was staring at him curiously but she said nothing. In a better world, he might have an explanation all ready, kind words to tell her and soothe her pain, tell her how much more Jane mattered to him than Becky, reassuring her of everything. Sadly, they were in a crappy world where nothing was guaranteed. Tom had somehow managed to cross paths with the one person who had used to make him feel so much rosier and happier and he had no desire to let her go just because Emma might not love the idea or because it was so soon.

"I gotta go," he said eventually. "Emma, if you wanna… maybe talk about it. Later? Another time?"

She gave him a timid smile, nothing he was used to.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

The seats G7 and G8 were the same as ever, perhaps a little more decrepit for lack of maintenance. For old time's sake, Tom paid for both their tickets, though he never remembered them being anywhere near as expensive back in the days. Becky paid for snacks and drinks and if Tom wasn't careful, he could imagine himself back in time, a hundred dates in these seats when neither of them had a place of their own and the movies was as much privacy as they could hope for when their parents were home. Some romantic movie, Becky's choice, for which he was grateful. After the semi fiasco of his attempt the other day, he didn't know if he could just pop in a conversation that he couldn't really do superhero movies anymore, that there were many things he was no longer capable of.

Becky's hand was tucked in his on the armrest and he didn't know if he was surprised or if he had been expecting that she turned to him mere minutes after the movie had started. Her face all white with the screen, shiny eyes, her teasing smile. She traced the shape of his arm, passed his heart, his neck. Fingertips scratching his beard, something she hadn't been used to, stopping at the earlobe, a gentle caress of her thumb on his cheek. He didn't remember her being so coy before − in fact, he remembered quite the opposite − but he would gladly give her whatever she would ask for, with words or with looks.

They made out like they were fifteen, seventeen again and they hadn't seen each other in a whole day of classes, the utter agony. The passing memory of a few very bold showings in these very seats came rushing back, what they had dared doing when the lights were down, but none of that was what today was about. There was something sweet about her kisses, almost innocent. He was content to just hold her against him, gladly waste away the price of the tickets in her embrace and her kiss. They hardly said a word after the lights went up again, holding hands as they walked back to the car.

Back to Becky's, two glasses neither of them touched much left full on the table while they were taken with some much more important preoccupation. They kissed. Becky was such a comfort, a reassurance, a delight, and Tom forgot anything other than the touch of her hands pulling him close. He felt like the kid he had been the first time he loved her, back when everything was simpler and there was nothing more important in the world than convincing Becky of how much, how well he loved her. He hoped she still knew, but he would do anything he could to show her either way.

Becky's hands caught behind his neck and Tom pushed her back into the couch. Her legs parted for him and he groaned at old sensations, the boundless pride of being wanted by her. He kissed her neck, her ear, the tender skin under his lips. The crook of her neck so warm, so comfortable, lost in fiery red hair.

"Tom?"

A sigh as he nibbled on the lobe of her ear and his hand touched hot skin under her shirt, but it was stopped by fingers around his wrist and Tom leaned up to check on her. She was looking vaguely at some part of the wall behind him.

"Becky?"

She shook her head.

"It's just... Before we... I mean, assuming you wanted to..."

He smirked.

"I was thinking about it," he said, pulling her hand into his, their fingers clasping together and he pulled it to his mouth for a kiss.

Becky took the affection graciously but was, it seemed, above being soothed so.

"What you said the other day... I want to tell you. As well."

He tore himself off of her, sitting at her side to better let her collect herself. He wanted to hold her hand at least, give her all the care and support he felt he ought to, but something about her demeanor was stern and he thought she would prefer to be left to say her piece undisturbed, undistracted.

She told him about Stanley. He had not known much about him, just that there had in fact been another man that had played his part in tearing them apart the first time. After the whole breakup, when there had been Jane to soothe his heavy heart, he had ignored any rumors for his own selfish sake. And after Jane, well. He had carried his own grievous baggage till he had found Becky again.

Shock filled him first. He couldn't believe that something like that could happen here in Hatchetfield to a woman like Becky. He couldn't believe he had never had even a hunch. He couldn't believe that the sweetest, the kindest person he knew had been driven to such depths of desperation and tragedy. Then came guilt. If he had never enrolled, if he had been a perfect boyfriend, if he had worked harder at finding a job and staying in town with her. If he had known, noticed. But he did not say a word all the time Becky told her story. He had no place in it and making himself one would be the most obnoxious of offences.

She had not looked at him the whole time, something haunted in her eyes. He realized in this moment that he loved her. The fleeting fancy of a few dates was something, but to see the most vulnerable, the most hidden part of Becky Barnes, that was the most precious token of trust he could ever have received. He was hardly worthy of it. Becky sighed.

"So, now you know," she said quietly. "I'm not… I didn't want to lie to you any longer."

"It's not lying," he replied at once. He took her hands in his and could have cried for the way she looked at him, the relief. "It's not lying at all."

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her close, to kiss her sorrows away. He wasn't enough, though. He thought maybe nothing would ever be enough, but made the vow to always give it a try. Becky fiddled with his fingers to soothe herself.

"It's just the… the memories, I suppose. I don't want to lead you on either, Tom. You're not getting back the Becky you dated in high school. Not all of her."

He kissed her hand.

"Becky," he said softly. He kissed it again. "I haven't been as hurt as you have but… I know what it's like to feel broken."

She was curious, though she never asked the questions evident in her gaze. Tom hated talking about it, even thinking about it, but of all the people in the world, Becky was the only one who he might open up to. He shrugged.

"Jane used to send me to therapy, for a few years. Always hated it. It's all this, the memories…" She reached out, touched his cheek. "Like I'm in my home or my bed but something happens and suddenly I'm not anymore, I'm in Baghdad again and my buddies are falling like flies around me…"

He shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, I'm making this about me, aren't I?"

"But it is about you too," she replied with kindness. "About us."

 _Us_. There was an 'us' again. Becky took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, cuddling into his chest.

"I'm sorry I ruined the mood," she muttered.

He held her close to him and kissed her hair. Breathed her in. His heart was beating hard, still half in shock, but at the same time so taken with compassion and love for the woman in his arms he could hardly take it.

"Just look at us, huh."

He laughed bitterly.

"What's left of us," she replied.

They didn't make love that evening, though he still spent the night. Somehow, he felt much closer to her than if they had. Holding each other in her bed, whispering to each other probably a fraction of what they felt, he felt like they were now connected on the deepest of levels in a way he had never imagined he ever could. Her face was tucked against his neck, their breaths mingling warmly. He held her close and tight as if his embrace would ever be enough to protect her now that it was too late. She clung to him and he almost believed the delusion himself.

They woke up still snug in each other's arms, him first and he basked in the glorious beauty of a sleeping Becky Barnes. Her little face twitching itself awake, eyes squinting tight before she opened them lazily with the gentlest of gazes up at him.

"Morning, Mr Houston," she smiled.

She stretched her arms and wrapped them better around him. Fingers traced circles on his lower back under his tank top.

"Good morning, Becky Barnes."

He kissed her. And never stopped kissing her. He kissed her as well as he could. He loved her as well as he could. They were warm and comfortable and Becky pulled him on top of her and for a blissful moment, staring down into Becky's blue eyes, her arms grasping his, her mouth caught half open in a moan, Tom didn't feel broken at all. He felt strong and full. He felt perfect.

He didn't tell Emma about Becky that day. He didn't tell her the next time either. Having seen her a handful of times in his life, Tim had grown oddly attached to her very rapidly. Tom supposed despite his better sense that there was something rather interesting about her, the snark, a kindness under layers of sarcasm. She treated Tim like her favorite nephew, she was his favorite aunt. Maybe Tom was pushing the limits asking her to watch Tim just as often as he asked Grace. He offered to pay for it but Emma always refused, which gave him some peace of mind about the whole arrangement.

"Becky Barnes?!"

Immediately, he almost regretted having admitted the truth for the look on her face.

"Didn't you date her enough already? What was it, a couple years in high school?"

Four years, he corrected in his own mind, but thought it might be ill timing to say it out loud.

"Thanks, Emma, I am happy for me as well," he said dryly.

She huffed deridingly.

"Sure, yeah, I'm _thrilled_."

He snorted. He had not expected a different reaction, which was the reason he had delayed telling her in the first place. It wasn't so much that her opinion mattered to him all that much. They had never been close, not when Jane had still been there between them. If anything, however, the few weeks of Becky Barnes back in his life had melted some of the ice between them, greatly helped by Tim's natural warmth. He got that exclusively from Jane − and Emma had not inherited it either − and this, he thought, might have been the reason why Emma was becoming partial to him. Still, her approving of his dating Becky was not a requirement for him in any way. For Tim's sake, for the sake of creating themselves a new way of coexisting as a family, it might still have been appreciated.

"You used to hate her," he noted.

"Used to," she said pointedly. "Sure."

How two women could be more different, he could not say. Emma was all bite and caustic, rough around the edges. Becky was fierce too but gentle, mellow and compassionate.

"You used to hate me too."

That had her smirking.

"Used to," she repeated. "Sure."

He laughed, but grew quiet. Emma was staring at the table pensively.

"Look, erm, Emma."

She nodded to show she was listening.

"Jane is… Well, she was my wife. I loved her, I always will. And there's always Tim to remind me how much I did." He sighed. "But I won't spend the rest of my life alone and miserable for the sake of her memory. Just like you're finding new ways to be happy, too. Am I not allowed to?"

Emma had started dating, he knew from Tim, though he had never met the guy. She was building herself somewhat of a life in Hatchetfield again. It was all they could do.

"I guess so."

She gave him a reluctant hug all of her own initiative when she left.

Him and Becky kept seeing more of each other. Of course, they made love again, of course they talked again of the shadows that still haunted them. With Becky in his arms, Tom felt more alive, more vivid than he had in years.

It wasn't like it had been in high school. There was a joy there they hadn't known during their years apart but they weren't the same, neither of them. They saw new facets of each other that had grown over time, that weren't there a lifetime of sorrows ago. She was more meticulous than he remembered. He was more solitary, more withdrawn. They still fit together, two lives melting into one, but the puzzle had a bit of a different shape than before, more pieces, snapping together so differently than they had. He held her close, breathed her in and, combing his fingers through shiny hair, felt just as strongly as he had. Perhaps even a little bit more. He loved not just the Becky he had known and lost, but the Becky he had found again, all that she had become.

"Okay, what's his favorite movie?"

Becky had quizzed Tom all day, first through text then in person when they had met up. He could sense her anxiety and, though it was starting to seep through him too, soothed it as best as he could.

"Used to be Cars," he said. "But I think now probably Toy Story or something. Maybe those dragon movies with the cute black one, you know. Becky, I really don't think it'll come up."

"What if it does?" She said in a whiny voice that was too cute for his own sake.

He put a hand on her lap. They were a few streets from Tim's school and Becky was fretting more by the minute.

"Then you'll ask him and he'll tell you and you'll get to know each other."

She smiled, more to please him than in actual relief. Tom had no doubt that Tim would take to her. He had always been a cheerful little guy, smiling from birth and in the last few months, he had regained some of his former good cheer. He loved to make people laugh, to goof around. Becky loved to make people feel valued and listened to. He could already guess the mix that would make.

"Hey," Tim said merrily when he got into the car. "Erm, hi."

"Bud, just like I told you. This is Becky, my, er, girlfriend."

The word felt wrong, not because it was erroneous but because it seemed not to cover a fraction of what Becky meant to him. He doubted such a distinction would make a difference to Tim.

"Say hi Becky," he suggested.

Tim rolled his eyes.

" _Hi Becky_ ," he said with insistence to taunt his old dad. "Do you play Fortnite?"

"Sometimes," she said, surprising both of them.

"You do?!" Tom asked.

She smiled.

"I work with children all day long," she said. "Some things can be learned."

"That's so cool!" Tim cried out and just like that, the impression was greatly made.

They spent the evening at home. Tim challenged Becky to beat him at whichever game he was into these days on the Switch. He won but Tom, who had observed the match, thought that this was entirely by Becky's good grace and not the boy's actual merits. Still, Becky charmed him with her easy pleasantries and when she was gone the next morning, Tim asked if she could come again another time.

He got a dog on a whim. Perhaps to give Tim something to get over the change of his dad seeing someone who wasn't his mom, perhaps just for the sake of some new life at home, the dog was adopted and brought Tim to new levels of ecstasy rarely seen on the boy. Tom took the dog jogging with him in the morning, an exercise much more appreciated by the dog than by himself. He started working out again, which felt like a thousand hells and he wondered how it could ever have been so easy when he was young. But then as now, the reward was how appreciative Becky showed herself, palming his muscles after a workout, the glint in her eyes a promise for later. For all she said she loved him all the same cuddly or bulky, he could guess her actual preference.

Tim was allowed to sleep over at Emma's again, which had half become Emma and Paul's. Tom was not unconvinced they might all die before the next day but let him go nonetheless.

"… and don't let him play violent games like you always do, he's just ten."

It was the last of a hundred recommendations that had come before. Emma had pretended to sleep through half of it.

"Do you really think I'm an idiot?" She retorted.

Tom smirked. She stared for a few seconds before breaking into a smile of her own. Punching his shoulder, she sent him off.

"You asshole," she muttered to him out of Tim's ear range − so she _could_ listen after all.

Becky and Tom went on a nice date, six months of dating each other now. Some restaurant she liked, but mostly just an occasion to be on their own without the worry of having to be anywhere else. He bought her a rose from a stand. She put it in her hair and he wondered how he could ever love her more. A walk across the park, they found themselves making out on a bench under the stars, soon decided to take that energy with them back to his place. They did it like horny bunnies, like hormone-fueled high schoolers. There was nothing quite like the love of Becky Barnes.

"Erm, babe," he asked as he had meant to at the restaurant but forgot for the beauty of her smiles and conversations.

They were cuddling on the couch, if cuddling was not too dignified a word to describe the pile of them, Becky sprawling inelegantly on top of him, too much limbs for the couch's size but cozy together under the plaid. Her face buried in his chest comfortably, her arms loosely around his neck.

"Mmh?"

Fingers through her hair loosened from the pretty bun she had tied it in, scratching the soft skin of her back underneath.

"Have you thought about living together?"

She leaned up to look at him better. Twirling with hair behind his ear. A smile.

"I have," she said, "But I don't want to impose myself on Tim. In a space that… that isn't mine."

A space that had been Jane's. Tom wondered if he ought to feel more crippling guilt for bringing his high school sweetheart to the bed that had been his wife's. Had Jane been mere distraction for all the years without Becky? But she had not, and he was raising on his own the evidence that their marriage had had more to it, the living and breathing proof. Still, he never thought of Jane when he brought Becky to this house that she had inhabited. He wondered what Tim thought.

"Well," he said and kissed the wrist touching his face, "We don't have to live _here_. I'll love you everywhere just the same."

She gave him the sweetest of smiles and kissed him.

"And I'll love you, Tom," she replied.

They brought Tim into the conversation within the next days. Hesitant as he was, he seemed to very much enjoy being treated like a mature young man, an important part of the discussion. Becky was determined to not have her person and their relationship forced onto him. Tom was a bit less drastic. Tim was his world but he also knew that he had a right to his own happiness not strictly guided by him. He negotiated a few things − a bigger room, a bed for the dog in it, a TV screen too with all his games − all of which were readily granted.

"And can I get a laptop and a second room for all my toys?"

" _Timothy Houston_ ," Tom growled.

Becky giggled and even Tim started to laugh and before long, the three of them were as chipper as could be and it was arranged that they would start looking for a new place.

Moving in was a lot more fun than he had expected. Becky was wearing comfortable overalls and had tied her hair in two braids. She was a distraction, but a much needed one. Tim kept playing with the labeler, adding useless descriptions to all boxes, even the ones that weren't his at all. Of course, Tom ended up having to carry pretty much everything but he knew by the glances Becky kept throwing him that the effort would be well rewarded.

It was chaos for a while at their new home. Boxes everywhere, not yet sorted into the different rooms they would belong to. Some of the furniture had arrived, some hadn't yet. They made a blanket fort in the middle of the living room that was a forest of boxes at the present and all night they told each other stories and ate crap food. Tim fell asleep in his arms for the first time in ages, maybe one of the last times, and Tom and Becky were left staring at each other tenderly, silently. He stroked Tim's hair. He remembered when he was a baby, a toddler, how soft and thin his hair had been. Jane had waited till he was nearing three years old to cut it for the first time. He wondered if that had given Tim his current taste for a permanent bed head look. He smiled and embraced his son closer. He saw in Becky's eyes the same exhaustion he was feeling. The dog was resting his head on her lap.

"I love you," he whispered, smiling at her.

She kissed him softly and their hands clasped together around Tim's back. Tom was filled with a peacefulness he had never thought he could find again. Her head leaned against his shoulder comfortably and the first night in a home of their own was spent without touching the bed.

They went to therapy − again for him, for the first time for her. They didn't go together, not even on the same days, that they might be each other's support whichever way the sessions went. They asked for each other's progress and feelings, of course, though not all of it was to be shared. Sometimes he felt quieter from it, sometimes too much confiding made him fret and become annoyed at himself. Sometimes, Becky came home a wonder of good spirits, sometimes devastated and close to tears. She hid it from Tim, sometimes even from Tom. He knew some of her journey had to be her own only, that there were things she would not, could not share with him, but he had made it a point to always show himself willing to comfort her and hold her in his arms no matter what. Sometimes she made use of that, sometimes she didn't.

Living together created a new rhythm of life. No more shuffling their schedules to create the maximum time together, which was now plenty. What had been special and thrilling became routine − but no less joyful to him. Tim became slightly brattier as they had feared, but quieted down after a while. The dog grew. Tom loved Becky. Becky loved Tom.

He enjoyed nights with her best of all. Not for the sex, although that too, but the intimacy of being around her, just the two of them, nothing to do but enjoy each other after the stress of the day was over had an appeal that never lost its spark. Becky was reading when he came out of the shower and she mussed his damp hair before getting back to it. Tom sat on the edge of the bed, drying himself off. He put on some boxers and slid under the covers with her. Offered an arm to snuggle into, Becky took the hint and rested the book on his chest to read it there while he scratched her scalp. He breathed quietly. She turned a page.

"Becky?"

She didn't look up.

"Yes?"

"It's… erm, it's serious, I think. Can you..."

She closed the book, reaching over his body to put it down on the night stand on his side of the bed. Her breath was warm against his shoulder as she got back into the embrace and he rubbed circles against her back.

"Do you see us getting married?"

She didn't need to look at him for him to know the smile of her all too perfectly, to feel its mark against his skin.

"Mmh?"

"Just asking about the future. If we have plans."

She leaned a little bit up and her elbow poked the slightest bit painfully into his chest but he said nothing. She smiled, bit her lip in that way he had always found so fucking hot.

" _Do_ we have plans, Tommy?"

He could only smile back. The tease she could be.

"I don't know," he replied, "Because we haven't _talked_ about it yet. Where do we stand, do you want to get married?"

There was something so pure, so beautiful about her smile, a bit of magic in her eyes. She kissed him.

"I do," she said in a low voice, trying in vain to conceal her excitement. "I thought I wouldn't but I do."

He nodded and hid a silent laugh in a breath out. Though he had not dreaded the conversation per se, he still found himself relieved to be having it.

"Okay. I'll look at rings. What do you like? Do you want a big proposal or, or just…"

But Becky stopped him with a finger against his lips. Ever intent to vex him and always he loved her more for it.

"You've just asked me if I wanted to marry you."

"Yeah?"

"I don't need another proposal."

Briefly he thought of Jane, how she had sat him down with her binder, pulled the list of the lifegoals she had and when she was planning on achieving them, and if he was along for the ride. She had always had a hunch for what the future held ahead, until she hadn't. But he had admired her for how pulled together she had always been and in an odd guilty way, she had inspired him to ask Becky in the first place. He had expected quite a bit more planning and discussing than this, but then Becky wasn't Jane, was she?

"Okay," he said, feeling mellow already. "Okay, great."

She kissed him, her small hand at the back of his neck. He could feel her grin against his lips and it shone so bright even after they parted.

"I love you," she said. Her hand was combing through the hair at the nape of his neck. "That's that for tonight. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

He nodded. Becky gave him another kiss, shorter, just for reassurance.

"You'll look hot in a tux."

He could only grin goofily, pulling her to him, hands on her butt.

"Maybe you'll look even hotter out of it, too."

"Well, I'm not wearing a tux right now, Miss Barnes."

The engagement was duly celebrated. Tim surprised them by being thrilled when they announced the news the next morning. Already he began to draw up ideas for the wedding and Tom realized neither of them had much of a plan for what they wanted anyways. Of course, Jane had organized everything about their wedding, only asking for his approbation at the final result which he had freely given all the way. Becky's wedding, she never talked about. He never asked either.

They married in the spring. Becky was the most beautiful, the most stunning bride of all times, blushing through their vows and Tom stumbled a few times at the sight of her. Tim appointed himself flower boy and ring bearer and did a tremendous job at both. It was a small celebration, neither of them especially sociable to the point of having many dozens or hundreds of guests to bring, but even with the reduced crowd, Tom only had eyes for his wife. Who else mattered, in the end? The only people he cared for were the ones he came home to.

Becky Barnes became Becky Houston of her own volition. Tom never even brought up the idea. Jane had been adamant on keeping her own name, an insistence that fell on particularly accepting ears, as Tom had had no desire to change a thing about Jane Perkins when he signed his marriage contract. He did not wish to change anything about his new wife either, but it was Becky who asked him if she could. She said a thing about marking the change of life, binding her to him in name as well as in law. Tom let her do as she pleased. Becky Houston had a certain ring to it, he had to admit.

Wife and child and house and pet, they started to fall into the image of a normal life. Tom still felt mismatched on a deeper, hidden level, still felt like there was a part of him that didn't fit with the rest of the world, that might never fit. What mattered was that it fell perfectly in line with Becky, with Tim. That was enough. At home, he felt content and peaceful every night. He became a teacher again. He went out, lived something like a normal existence.

They went to one of Tim's games as a family. Unfortunately, this included Emma's now freely avowed _boyfriend_ Paul who had donned a shirt with the Hatchetfield colors, cheeks painted, and was overall much more into the whole thing than one might expect from a guy who seemed never to have attended a sports event before. He kept shouting at the wrong times and nothing he said made much sense but Emma, rather than correcting him, simply smiled and shook her head fondly.

"I'm getting us beers," she said and kiss Paul on the shoulder.

Tom hugged Becky close. It was chilly and though he had insisted on her layering up, he could still see her shiver, no matter how well she hid it. He gave her a kiss on the temple.

"I can't stop thinking about when you cheered for me," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled at him naughtily. First out of the locker showers, always the secretive rendez-vous after practice.

"I still do," she said. "And you're still my star player."

He kissed her, only to be interrupted by Emma's rude tap on the shoulder.

"Here," she said, "You owe me five bucks."

Tom glared, but took the cans she handed him. It was a fairly good game, no matter how little Tim had to do with the quality of it. Even more entertaining was glancing at Paul pretending to understand what was going on, pretending to be enjoying it, pretending to like beer. Tom chugged some of his. Becky leaned her head against him, not touching her own. He put a hand on her thigh, slid it up to her belly for a brief moment, back on her thigh again. He traced slow circles with his thumb. They waited for the crowd to be yelling at a high point of the game, Emma and especially Paul joining in and distracted, to switch his now empty can with hers.

"We'll have to tell them eventually," he muttered to her.

She gave him a smile, almost an apology.

"For now, it's just you and me."

By no miracle on his part, Tim won the game eventually. Tom cheered for him, of course, but at the end of the day, football or not, he was certain that he was the winner of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Please leave a comment to tell me if you liked this!


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